


Fisher Mysteries: Outsider's POV

by Sunshineditty



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-13 13:58:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11186565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshineditty/pseuds/Sunshineditty
Summary: The slow-burning attraction between Phryne Fisher and Jack Robinson is the heart of "Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries" and these chapters are unconnected one-shots of various scenes or episodes I've embellished or lengthened to reflect Jack's point of view.Update: I've finished the series and now watching the episodes again with an eye towards all characters that make up Phryne's world. Where most of this will be from Jack's pov, I've decided to include other people as well.





	1. The Model

**Author's Note:**

> Jack's point of view from the last part of "Murder in Montparnasse."

Jack watched as Phryne carefully untied and unwrapped the butcher paper, revealing a titillating portrait of a lush nude female. Jack wasn't Hugh, novice to both spiritual and physical love, nor was he unaware of  _art_ , no matter what Phryne thought. He wasn't as cultured or as worldly - in all senses of the word - as Miss Fisher, but he'd seen some scandalous things during his time. 

He knew Phryne was waiting for his reaction with bated breath, so he casually and slowly eyed the model's beautiful form, allowing his gaze to dwell on the peaks of her breasts, and linger at the cup of her hips. It wasn't until he looked at the white shoulder that Jack realized the model was  _Phryne._ He'd seen her bared shoulders enough times in the low-cut gowns she preferred when she went out on the town, to know the exact size and shape of the mole taunting him from the oil replica of her body. His lower body went taut as the blood rushed south; his distant appreciation for the female form became urgent pulsing need upon recognition of  _who's_ form he viewed. 

Jack immediately drew his eyes away from the painting and pointedly looked at Phryne's amused smirk and knowing blue eyes, exchanging meaningless words that said less than the breathless silence ringing with desire he couldn't express aloud. The attraction he'd felt for the Honourable Miss Fisher was a deep awareness that lived in the beating of his traitorous heart and burned into the length of his bones. This was a woman who'd  _lived_ in ways he never had, nor had the courage to, expressing her sensuality in every facet of her life. Jealousy tortured him with the knowledge of the men who'd slipped beneath her cool silken sheets into the living warmth of her body; except he had no right to feel these things, not when his wife still carried his name, if not his total devotion or uncomplicated regard.

His marriage to Rosie was one of youthful love and impetuousness, a defiance he thought would last forever. Forever had lasted exactly the breadth of the war, when he'd returned a shattered and changed man instead of the headstrong boy who'd left with glory burning in his mind's eye. Rosie was still the woman grown from the seeds of the girl he'd left behind, except they no longer spoke the same language nor even shared the same understanding of the world.

For all of Phryne's glibness and gaiety, there was a shaded weariness and wariness glimpsed in unguarded moments that drew Jack because it spoke to experiences that formed a woman capable of handling a gun, unafraid to plunge into the darker aspects of human nature, and that knowledge was intoxicating. He wanted to plunder her secrets as fiercely as he wished to capture that sly mouth, sink into her slick cunt, demanding entry into the fortress of her heart. 

He needed to be away from her dangerous presence, especially as he still felt the ghostly imprint of her lips upon his from the stolen kiss. He so desperately wanted to replace the taste of her fear with her arousal and that, more than anything, scared Jack into movement and rush. His swollen cock caught briefly against his flies, and he discreetly adjusted himself as he gathered his jacket and hat. He made the mistake of looking back at Phryne, who's expression had quietened into one of contemplation instead of amusement, and he nodded to her in farewell as he quickly stepped out her door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these two and I appreciate the slow burn of their attraction. I was just struck by the sensuality of their exchange, especially when she was teasing him about blushing, and I wondered what he was thinking. This popped into my head and I just wrote it down as is with no editing.


	2. The Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's reaction to the possibility of Miss Fisher's death via motor vehicle accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was extremely telling how Jack reacted throughout the episode "Blood at the Wheel" about the even the hint of Phryne's mortality, berating her in a way he's never done before.

Jack could see the words of Hugh's misconstrued message as if emblazoned across the backs of his eyelids:  _Miss Fisher_ _'s motorcar accident. Deceased. Help?_

Even though he knew now it was Gertie Haynes and  _not_ Phryne Fisher who was killed, Jack couldn't escape the crushing feeling of overwhelming panic and sadness that sat behind his breastbone. He was familiar with the wretched weight, having experienced it countless times during the war, and it wasn't something he welcomed now. For all their gentle flirting, and Jack's undeniable regard for Miss Fisher, he couldn't allow her to have a preeminent spot in his heart or his life because he would never survive the end of their love affair.

And there would be an end because Phryne was quite adamant in her desire to remain free of any entanglements past the engagement of a few pleasure-soaked afternoons. Jack couldn't begrudge her the freedom - he was neither her brother nor her father - but he wouldn't put himself in the position of enjoying her favors when he wanted, nay  _needed_ so much more than that. He was a serious man with a serious heart, something Rosie used to tease him for, and he understood himself in this matter. Phryne Fisher was the single greatest threat to his emotional well-being, and he was terrified of allowing her closer than arms length because he knew,  _knew_ once he tasted her, he would be destroyed, an acolyte at the altar built upon the bones of other doomed affairs of the heart.

He had to armor himself against her and her  _joie de vivre_ because she would break before she would ever bend for any man, and honestly he didn't want her to change, to become a shadow of herself. He didn't wait for Mr. Butler to let him out, and he ignored Phryne's anguish as best he could for his own sake. _Coward_ was one word she might use. _Smart_ was his own.


	3. The Ex-Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back story to the awkwardness in "Marked for Murder."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this series is supposed to be about Jack's pov, but I couldn't resist throwing in Rosie's because she was completely obvious throughout the episode. This definitely makes it clear that despite their divorce, the dearth of love wasn't the problem. I decided to change the scope of the series to outsiders in case I get the itch for someone else.

Rosie saw Jack walking up the stairs towards the middle of the row and couldn't resist the urge to speak to him, ignoring her father's muttering beneath his breath. While the divorce was her idea, she'd never expected Jack to acquiesce. She thought he would fight past her objections and woo her back to his arms the way he'd done when they'd briefly parted over a stupid quarrel years before their marriage. Rosie had gone to her sister's because she couldn't break through the apathy and silence that reined in their house and the coldness in their bed, but she had counted each hour, always expecting to hear that stern knock at the door heralding her husband.

It never came and she was forced to employ drastic measures even as she hated herself for them. She wasn't dramatic or improper, and had always stayed within the boundaries of good sense, but sometimes a woman must do what she can to engender the correct response. Apparently she didn't know Jack as well as she thought she did because when he finally did arrive at her sister's, after receiving the paperwork sent by her solicitor, he'd turned melancholic eyes on her even as his hand signed the document. There was nary a whimper or sign of struggle, instead it almost looked like relief, as if a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. Rosie was a proud woman and refused to beg a man who didn't seem to want to keep her, so she signed her name as well, and allowed the divorce to proceed. It was one of the biggest regrets of her life and sometimes she desperately wished there was a way to reverse time so she could make a different decision.

She loved Sidney, she did, but it was with gentle complacency instead of the raging thirst that still ravaged her sometimes when she saw Jack. Rosie had grown up with Sidney, his family running in the same circles as her own, so she was well aware of what to expect with him; there wouldn't be the tender passion stoked by hours of teasing foreplay or the sudden overwhelming desire to rend clothing to get to flesh. She enjoyed her fiance's lovemaking as he was a man who knew how to please a woman, but her heart and body were still attuned to another.

The words she spoke to Jack were meaningless and desultory as she just wanted to stand there in the anonymity of the crowd to drink in Jack's familiar scent and relish his crisp voice in her ear. Her delight was mingled with annoyance at Miss Fisher's presence, an obstacle she was too familiar with as the...woman...had been a thorn in her side for a while now. Jack was not the straying type - in heart or body - so she knew the Honourable Miss Phyrne Fisher wasn't the reason why he signed the decree for their divorce, but Rosie also wasn't blind nor stupid. Her former husband was smitten and flitterpated by his part-time crime partner; she recognized the signs for he acted the same around her when they first started going together.

Jealousy was most unbecoming in a woman, much less an ex,  so she quickly stepped away from the couple and claimed her seat next to Sidney. It was hard to pretend to be swept up in the game as Jack's presence was a lodestone to her senses as always,. She had no desire to stir trouble with her current lover, however, so she waited a few moments before she peeked over her shoulder for one last glimpse.

Karma repaid her sin by forcing her to see Jack loop his (sacred) scarf around Miss Fisher's throat, his attention consumed by his companion. Rosie felt sick as she immediately turned away and jumped to her feet in pretense of caring about the opening play.


End file.
